


Sing for Me

by 823freckles



Series: Bleed to Love You [15]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/823freckles/pseuds/823freckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana is angry at Hannibal.</p><p>Day 17 of 30 Days of Hannibloom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing for Me

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to shout out again to the wonderful charlotteof_denmark. We’ve been writing these prompts together, so if you haven’t, you should check out her fills too. That is all.

He’d half-carried her to his bathroom, putting her in his big tub, where he’d washed her hair and back like a child. Alana kept reaching for him, as if to confirm he was really there. She reminded Hannibal of Mischa in that moment, Mischa in her baby copper bathtub, her star-shaped hands reaching for him as he washed her much finer, blonde hair. He had a moment of regret for the turmoil he’d put Alana through. But only a moment.

After her bath, he carried her to his bed, where he placed her under warm covers, her damp hair making patterns on his pillow. He brought her tea, blood orange and cinnamon. If he slipped something into her tea, Lorazepam to send her into a nightmareless sleep, he couldn’t be blamed. He sat in the corner of his room, reading, while she slept. Her sleep was not restless, and for that, Hannibal was pleased with himself.

He was reading Manobla’s _Zagare_ , finding it overly sentimental, when he felt her eyes on him. He lowered his book and stared back at her. Her eyes had dark circles under them, almost he color of bruises. She looked haunted. He put down his book and walked to the bed, circling it. Then he crawled into the bed, hovering over her. She stared at him, hungrily taking in every detail of his face.

“I’m here,” he reassured her. He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her head away at the last moment. His lips brushed her jaw instead. He took a deep breath.

“You’re angry with me,” he stated. “Do you plan on telling me why, per chance?”

The smallest, almost imperceptible shake of her head gave him his answer. He kissed her jaw, biting after each kiss. She stayed silent despite his efforts. He moved to her neck, and bit harder. Then he sucked the skin of her neck into his mouth, deliberately leaving a mark, something he never did in such a visible location. He leaned back, waiting for her to chastise him for his rudeness. All he saw was the slightest clench of her jaw. He watched the suck mark bruise form on her alabaster skin. Then he did it again, bit, then sucked, leaving mark after mark on her neck.

She didn’t say a word. He sat back and removed the covers from her body. He watched her exposed skin erupt in goose pimples, her nipples hardening in the chill of the night air. 

If you won’t talk to me, Alana, I will make you sing for me.” He leaned over her again, and pinned her wrists beneath his. He soothed her visibly aching neck with his lips and his tongue as he pressed his body against hers. The simple artistry of her naked form never failed to excite him, and he could feel himself growing hard. He thrust his hips against hers, letting her feel his hardness growing against her core.

He reached up and grasped her chin in his hand, turning it roughly towards him, so that she was looking him in the eye. He saw a modicum of fear pass through her eyes, and he felt his erection grow at the sight of her fear. He bent his head towards her, then kissed her. His kisses started gentle, small touches of his lips to hers, his tongue darting out to taste her. Then he nudged her lips apart with his tongue. She opened to him willingly enough. 

He explored her mouth with his tongue. He growled when she refused to respond. He felt her shudder beneath him in response to his growl. 

“I want to hear you, dearest. I want to listen to you.” He bit her lip and pulled. Still, she stayed quiet.

He got off her abruptly. She didn’t even look at him when he did so. He removed his clothes in fluid motions, then lay beside her on the bed. He kissed her again, this time making his way down her body. He trailed kissed down her sternum, then to her breasts. He took his time with each breast, alternating his rough hands and smooth tongue over each breast and hardened nipple. She tasted like his fine French soap and the sweet taste of her own skin. He relished the taste that was all Alana. 

His other hand trailed down her body to her center. He dipped a finger briefly inside her, and found her exceedingly wet. He rubbed his own erection against her hip as he sucked her nipple, trailing his own wetness on her. His fingers moved slippery circles around her clitoris. 

She was more than ready, but still, he continued his ministrations for more time. Her back arched off of the bed once, but he quickly pulled his hand away when it did. He waited for her to cry out in frustration, but she stayed silent.

So Hannibal crawled on top of her, again pinning her wrists in his hands. She liked being held down, and he obliged. He kneed her legs apart, and entered her swiftly. He bit back his own groan of pleasure as he felt her walls flutter around him, accommodating his girth. 

He grasped one of her legs and pulled it up, holding it high as he thrust inside of her. He started out maddeningly slow, then sped up his thrusts. He could feel his own orgasm building inside of his scrotum, but he focused completely on her. Hannibal watched as the skin of her chest flushed, watched as her eyes rolled back in her head, and felt her vagina begin to tighten around his penis.

He abruptly pulled out of her. He had to bite his own lip to keep from screaming out. His erection shone with their commingled juices, nearly purple in the cool air. 

How she managed to stay silent on the verge of orgasm was beyond his comprehension, and there was little Hannibal Lecter did not comprehend.

He waited a few moments, watching the flush start to fade from her chest. Then he waited even longer. He wanted her to no longer be so close to completion, but still close enough.

He maneuvered himself so his face was between her legs. He let her feel his warm breath on her vagina. Then he pulled his face away and replaced it with his hands. His hand massaged her entire genital region, yet avoided her clitoris. He dipped two fingers inside of her, hooking them inside of her. He moved them back and forth across the raised spot inside of her.

“Hannnnn…”

He looked up at her. She was resolutely looking anywhere but at him. Had he imagined it?

He pulled his fingers out, then grasped her hips, his fingers turning into claws that he dug into her skin. He lowered his mouth and stuck his tongue inside of her, thrusting the muscle as deep inside of her as he could. Then he ran his tongue up to her clitoris, circling it. Finally, he took the nub into his mouth, and sucked.

She screamed. “Fuck! Oh, I hate you love you loveyou!”

He licked her once more, tasting her juices as they flowed out of her from the strength of her orgasmic muscle contractions. So sweet. He felt her shudder beneath his mouth, and he smiled.

Pulling away, he spoke. “Good girl, Ms. Bloom. Good girl.”

He sat up, moving beside her on the bed. He waited until she recovered from her orgasm, then spoke.

“Now, tell me how I have angered you, Alana.”

“I thought you were _dead_! You didn’t answer your phone!” She grasped at him like she had when she’d first arrived at his house, desperate. He wrapped his strong arms around her and held her while she cried. 

Said Hannibal, “I’m sorry, my love.”

But he wasn’t.


End file.
